


Got My Heart Set On Anywhere But Here

by piginawig



Series: That's where you'll find me [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 27 years later, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Stan's Suicide, Past Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Slow Burn, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginawig/pseuds/piginawig
Summary: “Let’s make it a rule to never talk about It again,” Richie suggested, and Eddie readily agreed. “Let’s focus on the future instead of the past.”“Like visiting New York next week?”Or, 27 years later, Eddie gets divorced.





	Got My Heart Set On Anywhere But Here

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos on the first installment of this series! They definitely motivated me to get this part out faster! Hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Title from 'Stop and Stare' by OneRepublic
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://festiveddie.tumblr.com)!
> 
> As a warning: this installment is SO sappy. Fluff everywhere.

“I just wish it was the left arm, you know?” Eddie said, frowning down at the fork held awkwardly in his left hand. “I was right handed; I can’t do shit with the left hand.”

“I’m sure it’ll get stronger,” Richie pointed out, seated across the table from him. “Besides, it’s broken right now, so it’s even harder to use than it will be once it’s healed. And you know I’ll help you eat if you need it, the doctor said-“

“It’s okay, Rich,” Eddie interrupted, slowly bringing a forkful of eggs to his mouth. “I hate feeling helpless. It’s bad enough you’ve had to bathe me the last two weeks.”

“It has been an honor, Eddie Spaghetti,” he said with a grin. “Anyways, cast comes off today and next week you get your first prosthetic, so you won’t have to worry about me bathing you anymore.”

Eddie just smiled and kept eating. Richie didn’t push. He’d learned not to push on their third day in California, when he’d tried to comfort an inconsolable Eddie. Eddie had screamed at him, kicked him away, and thrown himself on his bed to cry into the pillows. Richie had stood in the doorway until Eddie yelled again, asking him to leave, and he finally did. He’d shed tears of his own on the phone with Beverly, who had told him to give Eddie space. Richie did, and after a few hours and a nap Eddie came to him, where he was curled up on the couch, and cuddled up to him. Eddie’s apologies for how he’d acted were waved off by Richie, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

Sometimes Eddie just needed space to deal with his new reality, and Richie could deal with that.

“Would you rather Kim or Michael drive you today?” Richie asked, after they’d sat in silence for a few minutes.

Eddie groaned. “Sure as hell not Michael. Last time he drove me, he literally asked me what it was like to be armless. I’m not even armless! I still have an arm!”

Richie chuckled. “Yeah, he’s not the best at tact, is he?”

“And yet his job is to interact with rich people all day,” Eddie said. “You’d think a car company would hire better drivers. You really aren’t supposed to interact with the passenger beyond formal pleasantries-“

“Yes, Mr. Kaspbrak, we get it, you own a car company,” Richie interrupted with a grin. Eddie flushed, and mumbled _I’m just saying_. “Speaking of your car company…”

Eddie sighed. “Do we have to go into this now? Over breakfast?”

“You talked to the lawyer four days ago and haven’t said anything about it. I’m dying a little bit over here, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re dramatic is what you are. We’ll talk about it tonight, okay? I need to get ready for my appointment, and you need to get ready for work.”

*

Richie stared blankly at the screen in front of him. His job was great, really, but he missed working at stations that played rock music. He’d sold his soul for a headlining DJ position on one of the top radio stations in the country, one that broadcasted across the nation daily, but in turn he had to play top 40 and interview pop stars.

“So should I play Taylor Swift or Bruno Mars next, Steve?”

Steve rolled his eyes, and told Richie to _shut the fuck up_. Richie shrugged, and put the Taylor Swift song in the queue. He had a few minutes of air time in between this song and the next, and he listened as the song currently playing came to an end, and began to speak into the microphone, immediately jumping into one of his Voices.

The day passed slowly, and Richie wondered intermittently how Eddie was doing. They were both happy that the cast was coming off – Eddie because he would have more mobility and freedom, and Richie because he hated the frustrated frown Eddie got on his face when he couldn’t do something himself. It wasn’t that Richie didn’t like to help Eddie, but he knew how much it meant to the other man to be independent, and that was hard when your best friend was literally spoon feeding you.

It was a few hours later that Richie walked into the front door of his house, kicking off his shoes and shouting “ _honey, I’m home_ ,” and grinning at Eddie’s responding “ _hi, Richie!_ ”

Richie walked farther into the house, spotting Eddie on the back deck with the glass doors leading outside left open. He made his way outside and sat next to Eddie, who was smiling serenely and looking the best Richie had seen since – since before It came back. Since they were kids.

“You look really fucking good, Eds,” he remarked, smiling genuinely. “Cast-free really suits ya.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but flushed. “Thanks. Feels amazing to be able to move it around again. It’s made the phantom sensation a little worse though, like I keep expecting both arms to move when I move this one.”

Eddie’s cheeks had more color than Richie could remember, and his eyes were brighter, but now his lips were pinched into a frown.

“I’m sure that’ll go away,” Richie assured him, reaching out and grabbing his hand. He squeezed comfortingly and let go. “The physical therapy is supposed to help with that, right?”

Eddie shrugged. “The shrinker is supposed to be helping with it. Although the prosthetist says the phantom sensation is better than actual phantom pain, so maybe the shrinker is helping. I go back next Monday to get my prosthetic, I went ahead and made the appointment. I’ll probably be there most of the day, I’m doing rehab on my arm and the fitting, plus they have to make sure it’s working right and I know how to use it before they send me home.”

Richie grinned. “Eddie Spaghetti, the bionic man,” he said, laughing when Eddie rolled his eyes. “But seriously, if there’s one thing I’m thankful for, it’s that we managed to make bank when we got outta Derry. Otherwise you wouldn’t be getting your top-of-the-line arm.”

“Technically, we only made bank because of It. And I only need the arm because of It. So if I had been poor but never fought a demon clown monster, then I wouldn’t even be worried about needing a new arm, so,” Eddie frowned thoughtfully. “Your argument is moot.”

“Did you just fuckin’ say _moot_?” Richie said. Eddie looked exasperated. “Anyway, I still resent the idea that she’s the only reason any of us are successful. We all worked hard for what we have.”

“Mike works hard, too,” Eddie reminded him. Richie sighed guiltily. “Anyway, we should talk about something else.”

“Let’s make it a rule to never talk about It again,” Richie suggested, and Eddie readily agreed. “Let’s focus on the future instead of the past.”

“Like visiting New York next week?”

Richie’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “The lawyer has the paperwork all drawn up, just needs mine and Myra’s signatures. We’re splitting the company down the middle. She gets half of everything. I’m letting her have our house in the city, and I think in a couple months I want to look into expanding the company to LA. There’s just as many famous people here to drive around than in New York City, if not more.”

“Wow,” Richie said quietly. “She really gets half of everything?”

“That’s how marriages work, Rich,” Eddie said, chuckling without humor. “It still leaves me enough to get a nice apartment here in LA–“

“Hell no, Eds,” Richie said. “You’re living here. I’ve got more than enough room for you!”

Eddie looked down at his lap. “Okay, that works for now but like.. what about further down the road?”

“I don’t think my house plans on shrinking, Eddie-“

“I meant, what if you decide to get married again? I’m sure your spouse wouldn’t appreciate your childhood friend living in one of the guest rooms.”

Richie’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He had no idea what to say to that. Getting remarried, even _dating_ , wasn’t even on his radar. The only thing he’d thought about in weeks was Eddie.

“I really don’t foresee that as a problem,” Richie said truthfully. “And we can just say – if anything like that ever does come up in the future, we can figure it out. But for now, you should live here. I have the space, the house is paid off, and honestly… it’s nice to have company. It can get pretty fucking lonely living in a big house by yourself.”

Richie bit his lip, wishing he could stuff the words back in. He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him but didn’t want to meet the pitying stare, so he stared at his feet.

“I may not know how lonely it is to live alone in a big house,” said Eddie, “But I know how lonely it is to live with someone you don’t love. I don’t know how I spent so many years so unhappy and just… living with it. Like I never even knew there was something better out there.”

Richie wondered if the _something better_ was him, and then shook himself of the notion. Eddie deserved the absolute best, and Richie wasn’t sure he qualified.

“I understand the feeling,” Richie said quietly. “At least we have each other again.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “At least we have each other.”

*

“Well that was the worst way to spend five hours,” Richie complained as he stood up and stretched, wincing when he bumped his head on the overhead compartment.

“Really? _You’re_ complaining?” Eddie asked, picking up his bag and putting the strap on his good shoulder. “I lost an arm a month ago, and _you’re_ complaining.”

“I’m sure it was a shitty five hours for you, too, Eds,” Richie said, letting a few people pass by before he stepped out into the aisle and lifted his arms to grab their shared suitcase from the overhead rack.

Eddie huffed. “Yeah, well, I can think of a worse way to spend my time, and she’s waiting for me with legal documents and a shrill voice.”

They made their way off the airplane, each carrying a carry-on bag and Richie rolling their suitcase behind him. They hadn’t checked any bags in, so they headed directly toward the exit. Eddie was checking his phone, making sure there was a driver waiting for them outside, and he sighed in relief when they stepped outside and he spotted the black SUV.

“This is a fancy ride, Eds,” Richie remarked as the driver hopped out and helped them load their bags in the trunk.

“Eds?” Phil, the driver, raised an eyebrow. He was one of Eddie’s first hires years ago, and they’d struck up a cordial friendship.

Eddie glared at Richie. “Thank you for that, fuckface.”

Phil’s eyes widened, mouth dropped. “I’ve never heard you curse, Kaspbrak!”

Richie snorted. “Really? He’s got the mouth of a fuckin’ sailor-“

“Richie brings out the worst in me,” Eddie quipped, causing Richie to wrap an arm around his shoulders and press a smacking kiss to his cheek. “Anyway, do you mind waiting for us at the house while we go inside and talk to Myra? We’ll need a ride to our hotel afterward.”

“Of course,” Phil said. He climbed into the driver’s seat as Richie helped Eddie into the back. They sat with the middle seat empty between them, and as Phil took off down the road, Eddie reached over, grabbing Richie’s hand.

“You okay?” Richie whispered. “We can go to the hotel first, you know that. Myra can wait another day-“

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie promised. Richie watched in wonder at the way his eyes hardened, determined. “I want to get this done with, and hopefully never see her again.”

“So,” Richie said, squeezing Eddie’s hand and trying to put a smile on his face. “If you’re not seeing her anymore, does that mean she’s free for me? You know how I love me some Mrs. K-“

“Beep beep, asshole,” Eddie snorted, but Richie noticed the corners of his lips twitching upward. “Besides, as soon as I sign those papers today she will no longer be Mrs. K, so you’re shit out of luck.”

Richie grinned, staring happily at Eddie. He was still getting used to the new arm, but it seemed to be doing a lot for his confidence. His left arm was no longer stiff from the break, and while he still needed help when it came to putting the prosthetic on and taking it off, he was much more independent than he had been the first few weeks of living with Richie. His eyes were brighter, and Richie loved it. He was reminded of the teenager he used to know, but at the same time he could see the growth in his best friend. He was stronger, more sure of himself.

However, the closer they got to the Kaspbrak residence, the more Eddie seemed to curl in on himself. Richie kept a hold of his hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth to calm Eddie down as much as possible, but he could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily.

“It’s going to be okay, Eds,” Richie said when Phil turned into a driveway and parked. There were two other cars, and Richie assumed one of them belonged to Eddie’s lawyer. “You deserve to be happy, okay? I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

Eddie nodded, biting his lip. He turned to Richie, and said, “I just want to warn you about Myra. She’s… difficult. I – I know we haven’t talked a lot about her but you’re going to figure it out when you see her. She’s basically… Fuck, Rich, I married my fucking mother.”

Eddie had tears welling in his eyes, and he looked so ashamed of himself that Richie couldn’t help but lean forward and wrap him in a hug. He heard Phil get out of the car and close the door behind him, giving them privacy.

When he pulled back, Richie rested his forehead against Eddie’s, leaving his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “I don’t care, okay? You don’t have to be embarrassed. I won’t think any differently of you. You- your mom was a piece of shit, Eds. She was just as abusive as my parents were, just in a different way. She fucked you up and that’s not your fault. But this? Right now? You’re moving forward, and you’re letting go of your mom and the medication and all the bullshit and you’re being true to yourself and it’s… Fuck, I’m proud of you. You’re so fucking brave, man. I wish I was half the man you are.”

Eddie sniffed, using his left hand to wipe away a few stray tears. “You know, in the last month I’ve seen you be serious more than the entire time we were friends as kids.”

Richie grinned. “It’s called maturity, Eds. I’m a grownup now.”

Eddie laughed, pulling back from Richie’s grip. Richie reluctantly let him go. “I don’t think grownups actually call themselves grownups, Rich.”

Richie waved a hand. “Semantics. Anyway, you ready to dump this bitch?”

Eddie gasped quietly, scandalized by Richie's word choice. “Oh my god, Rich, you can’t say that!”

Richie laughed as they got out of the car.

“I’ll be here when you’re done, Eddie,” Phil said as they walked by. Eddie thanked him and charged on toward the front door, stopping when he reached it.

“This is fucking stupid,” Eddie muttered. Richie planed a calming hand on his back, and Eddie leaned into it. “I can’t believe I’m knocking on my own front door.”

“You don’t have to knock, Eds, you can just go in.”

Eddie shook his head, then raised his left fist and knocked on the door. It was a few moments before a tall and thin balding man answered. He smiled politely. “My name is Hank Leroy. You must be Edward.”

“Eddie is fine,” Eddie told him. The man held out his right hand to shake, and Eddie stared at it. “Um – I can’t –“

He apologetically held up his prosthetic arm, and the man’s eyes widened.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kaspbrak,” he said, holding his left hand out instead. Eddie shook it swiftly, his cheeks beet red. “Come on inside, Mrs. Kaspbrak is at the table.”

Eddie and Richie followed him inside. Richie glanced around as they walked through the living room. There were a few picture frames on the mantel that had been placed face down. Richie wondered if they were wedding pictures. The house was homey, but Richie couldn’t imagine Eddie living here. It was too stifling. White walls and beige carpet and dark furniture, a giant television across from the couch.

They made it to the dining room where Myra was sat, her face pinched. Richie tried not to do a double take when he saw her. Eddie was not lying about marrying his mother.

Eddie opened his mouth to greet her, but her shrill voice cut him off. “Who is this?”

She was pointing at Richie as though he were an unpleasant insect she’d found on the floor. Richie angrily opened his mouth to respond but Eddie’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“I told Hank that I was bringing Richie,” he said, his voice tired. Myra let her arm drop, but she continued frowning. Eddie sat down across from her, motioning for Richie to sit next to him. Richie did, and the lawyer sat next to Myra.

Richie tuned out as the lawyer began speaking. He watched Eddie, who was paying rapt attention, instead. Eddie’s tongue was sticking out a little, the way it always did when he was concentrating. His eyes were cold, a front he was putting on in front of Myra and the lawyer, but Richie still thought he was beautiful.

After a while, the lawyer passed each of them some papers and pens, and Richie tuned back in just as Myra started speaking.

“Eddie, dear, are you sure this is the best idea?” Richie felt anger boil up inside of himself, but it seemed nothing compared to what Eddie was containing. He could see a vein in his neck pulsing, and he reached to hold his hand beneath the table. The moment their hands clasped, Eddie seemed to relax a little, but Myra must have seen the movement. “Are you – Eddie, are you two… _together_?”

Her voice was horrified, and Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Excuse me?” Eddie asked, annoyance evident on his face.

“You’re holding hands!” She shrieked, pointing again. “Under the table, you’re holding hands! Is that why you’re leaving me, Eddie? _Eddie?!_ ”

“Oh my god, Myra, no,” Eddie answered, huffing. “I’m leaving you because I don’t love you!”

Myra gasped dramatically, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. Tears immediately started dripping down her cheeks. Eddie hand clenched inside Richie’s.

“You smother me, Myra! You act like my mother! You fucking _look_ like my mother! This isn’t healthy, for either of us! You – you deserve someone who loves you.”

“I thought you loved me,” she said, sniffling loudly. The lawyer produced a package of tissues from his pocket and handed her one. She loudly blew into it.

“I – I don’t know, okay? I don’t –“ Myra’s eyes shot to Richie again, glaring at him as though it was his fault her husband didn’t love her. Richie glared back, and Eddie seemed to notice where her eyes were. “Stop looking at him! He didn’t do anything except be there for me when I got my damn arm ripped off!”

Myra let out a whine when Eddie mentioned his arm, but he kept speaking.

“You couldn’t even be bothered to come to Maine! Every message I’ve gotten from you since I left has been about how hard things have been for you! Richie was the one who took care of me when I needed it. He’s my best friend.”

“Then why have I never met him before?” Myra asked, turning her nose up.

“I can’t explain that,” Eddie said. “But this doesn’t have anything to do with him. This is about me.”

“If it’s not about him then why is he still holding your hand? Are you cheating on me? With a man?!”

“I never cheated on you,” Eddie said coldly. “I’m offended that you’d accuse me of that.”

“Well what am I supposed to think, Eddie?” She asked angrily. “You think I don’t know? That you’re gay? My mother, my sisters, every friend I’ve ever had warned me about you, but I didn’t believe them. Oh no, not my Eddie bear. _He loves me_. And then one day out of no where you just leave! And you come back missing an arm and – and holding another man’s hand!”

Eddie dropped his head into his hand, massaging his left temple.

“Can I speak?” Richie asked quietly, the question meant for Eddie. He wanted Eddie to look back on this moment and know he did this without help, but Richie was having trouble biting back words. Eddie nodded at him, so Richie looked at Myra. “Listen, Molly. Eddie never cheated on you. Not with me, not with anyone else. Just because he doesn’t love you doesn’t give you the right to attack and insult him. You’ve babied him your entire marriage, are you really surprised that he doesn’t want to stick around?”

Myra looked faint. “My name isn’t Molly.”

Richie shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I really don’t care.”

“Okay, Rich,” Eddie said quietly, and Richie shut his mouth. Finally, Eddie spoke louder. “Myra, you’re right. I’m gay. I’ve never been with anyone but you, though. But I’m… I’m tired. I have been through a lot in the past six weeks and it’s taught me that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend. And being reunited with Richie, my best friend, has helped me realize that I can move on and actually be happy. But I can’t do that with you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

Richie felt his heart racing as he watched Eddie speak. He was confident and calm and so fucking beautiful and if he wasn’t in love with him when they were kids, then he certainly was now.

Myra sniffed again, using the tissue to wipe up her tears. “Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly. Then, she picked up her pen, and signed her name. Eddie watched wordlessly as she stood from the table and walked toward a door that Richie assumed led into a hallway. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

She exited.

“Holy fuck,” Richie muttered.

Hank didn’t look shocked. “It’s pretty common to see someone give up the fight like that. Once you realize it’s over, there’s not much you can do. Have you signed, Edward?”

Eddie picked up the pen and signed his name, passing the papers over to Hank. He winced, as they all heard the sound of Myra’s sobs from upstairs.

“Is that it?” Eddie asked, standing from the table. Richie followed suit, and after Hank informed him there was nothing left to do, they left.

*

“Will you help me take it off?” Eddie asked, gesturing to his prosthetic. He had sat on the edge of his bed in their shared hotel room and kicked his shoes off. “And will you please get my pajamas from the suitcase?”

Eddie’s voice was small, and Richie’s heart felt heavy in his chest. He knew how much Eddie hated asking for help, but he could see on his face how worn out he was, both physically and emotionally, so he wordlessly grabbed a t-shirt and pajama pants for him and walked over to help him remove his arm.

Eddie winced and laid down once the prosthetic was off and his pajamas were on.

“Thanks, Rich,” he said softly, staring at the ceiling. “For everything.”

Richie sat on the bed with him, ignoring the full-size bed on the other side of the nightstand. “No problemo, Eddie Spaghetti, ‘s’what I’m here for.”

“It’s – it’s not, though,” Eddie said. “You’ve given up six weeks of your life to help me, and you’ve let me move into your house and you changed your whole schedule for me and you bathed me and changed me and – it’s too much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“I think just having you around is enough,” Richie said honestly. “I have nightmares sometimes, you know? About being back in the sewers… Except you don’t wake up. I just watch you bleed out and I scream for you but you never answer. I would do anything for that not to be real. I just got you back, Eds, I’m not about to lose you over a missing arm.”

Richie smiled wetly, staring at the ceiling so Eddie couldn’t see he was tearing up. He wondered when the fuck he’d gotten so emotional, and so vulnerable. He couldn’t remember the last time he opened up about his feelings with anyone, and six weeks back in each other’s lives and Richie was already spilling his guts to Eddie.

“I can’t believe I missed thirty years of your life,” Eddie whispered. Richie turned, hearing the emotion in his voice, and wiped a tear from Eddie’s cheek. Eddie smiled sadly at him. “I missed so much, and I hate it.”

“I know,” Richie said. “Me, too.”

“We could’ve been – “ Eddie stopped, bit his lip. Richie waited for him continue, but he didn’t.

“Could’ve been what?” Richie asked, trying not to get his hopes up. _We could’ve been together._

Eddie shook his head. “Nothing. Just – all of us. The whole Losers Club. We could’ve been friends all these years, celebrated each other’s accomplishments and helped each other not to make bad decisions. We could’ve – we could’ve saved Stanley.”

Richie choked back a sob at the name. He remembered curly hair and a wry grin, books about birds and jokes that no one but Stan thought were funny, and his chest hurt.

“It fucking sucks,” Eddie cried, and he used his left arm to push himself over so that his head was buried in Richie’s chest. Richie wrapped his arms around him and cried with him, about Stan, about everything that had gone wrong in their lives, and everything they had missed.

Richie wasn’t sure how long it was before his tears stopped. He looked down at Eddie, who had stopped crying and was now breathing slowly and steadily against Richie’s neck. He dragged his fingers up and down Eddie’s spine, his own heart racing when he felt Eddie’s breath hitch against his neck.

“Sorry I got all…cry-y,” Eddie said with a sniffle. He sat up, and Richie immediately missed his warmth.

“It’s okay,” Richie said. “I did, too.”

Eddie nodded and laid back down next to Richie. Richie couldn’t help but think if Eddie still had his right arm, it would be brushing up against his own.

“You’re a lot quieter than you used to be,” Eddie commented suddenly. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice. You’re much more mature than you used to be. But you don’t seem to use your Voices as much as you did when we were kids.”

Richie shrugged, feeling like Eddie was peeling back his skin. He didn’t know what to say. That his Voices felt more like a mask every day? Being himself had been hard for the past thirty years, hell, the past 40 years, but the last six weeks it had been a little less terrible.

“Dunno,” he finally said, looking into Eddie’s brown eyes with a small smile. “I guess I feel like I don’t need them as much right now.”

Eddie’s cheeks turned pink and Richie felt the corner of his lips twitch upward. When he was fourteen with a crush on his best friend, he never imagined that the same blush would make his heart race twenty-seven years later.

“I missed you,” Eddie whispered. “I didn’t know what, but I always knew something was missing. I didn’t remember you but I still missed you, so fucking much.”

“I can’t believe you’re gonna make me cry again, Eds,” Richie said with a broken laugh, wiping his eyes.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, but his eyes were sparkling like he wasn’t sorry at all. “But I mean it. I miss the others – a _lot_ – but I can be happy without them. I don’t… I don’t know if I can be happy without you.”

The words settled between them and made Richie’s cheeks heat up. He turned back to look at the ceiling again, afraid if he kept looking at Eddie’s face he’d lean forward and kiss him.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, shutting his eyes. “I don’t think I can be happy without you either, Eds.”

Neither of them spoke after that. Richie leaned over eventually and turned the lamp off, shrouding the hotel room in darkness. He slipped his jeans off and crawled under the covers, not bothering to move back to his own bed. He felt emotionally exhausted, like he’d gone through years’ worth of feelings in one night, and he just wanted to be close to Eddie.

When they woke the next morning, Richie’s arm thrown over Eddie’s waist and their legs tangled together, neither of them mentioned it. But Richie couldn’t ignore the fact that it had been the best night’s sleep he’d had in years.


End file.
